This poem is about how indians are so smelly. Ok, here it
goes.
Smelly smelly
what's so smelly
nothin' but a man
sitting in a pickup van
together with 20 other indians
waiting to sweep the bench
no matter how hard they try
they always attract flys
why dont you just fuking bathe
for the goodness of us we pray
aint no sh*t but smells like sh*t
whatever you do just dont speak
the smells got it goin' on
and if it continues i wont be called don
head to the garden and digga trench
and bury yourself with your other men
give up tryin to eat a kelp
as a matter of fact it aint gonna help
